


All Souls' Night

by GunBunnyCentral



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GunBunnyCentral/pseuds/GunBunnyCentral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halloween Night brings unexpected visions to Helena and Myka, each radically different but equally truthful...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Sang Me Of Some Distant Past...

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do something in the more general spirit of Halloween, but horror just isn't my genre - instead, I focused on the ancient belief that the veil between this world and the afterlife is thinnest on Samhain Night, allowing those we've lost to visit us if we're willing to see them...
> 
> Set Season 4-ish or later, but without spoilers and with one slight change I hope proves accurate. The rating is for the second chapter - the first chapter is PG-ish at most.
> 
> Oh, and I threw in a Sanctuary shout-out, just because I had to...

********************

_I can see the lights in the distance,_  
 _trembling in the dark cloak of night._  
 _Candles and lanterns are dancing, dancing_  
 _a waltz on All, All Souls' Night._

Loreena McKennitt, _All Souls' Night_

_When the moon on a cloudcast night_  
 _hung above the treetops' height,_  
 _you sang me of some distant past_  
 _that made my heart beat strong and fast._  
 _Now I know I'm home at last..._

Loreena McKennitt, _Samain Night_

********************

"Uh, HG, you got a sec?" Claudia stood nervously in the doorway of Helena's workroom, toying with the half black, half orange streak she'd put in her hair for Halloween.

Helena smiled, and watched Claudia's face light up in response. "If you mean do I have a moment to speak with you, always, darling. Just allow me to place this one last piece first."

That was enough to propel Claudia to Helena's side so that she could examine Helena's latest work-in-progress. The young engineer didn't actually say anything as she peered over Helena's shoulder - her hero-worship made her hesitant to comment on anything being made by *the* HG Wells - but Helena knew the redhead was analyzing everything she saw with an uncanny level of comprehension and was probably even a few steps ahead of her after only that offhand visual analysis.

The agreed-upon piece now properly seated, Helena used a rag to clean her hands of any stray grease as she focused her full attention on Claudia. "Now then, darling - what was it?"

Claudia - with an awkwardness that Helena remembered only too well from her own young adulthood - thrust out a hand containing a small item carefully wrapped in Halloween-themed tissue paper. "I know your birthday was technically a few days ago, but I didn't feel right giving you this at your party. It's meant to be used tonight anyway, so..."

The smell of cloves, nutmeg, and cinnamon hit Helena as soon as she began gingerly unwrapping her present, and the tissue paper finally opened to reveal a thin pillar-shaped candle in beautifully mottled orange and black.

"You shouldn't have, darling," Helena breathed, recognizing it as one of the candles that Claudia and Leena had so painstakingly made over the last few weeks. "You worked so hard on these, and they turned out so beautifully."

Claudia blushed a little, but couldn't hide her proud grin. "It's okay - I totally made it for you to begin with. Well, for Christina, I mean - it's a memorial candle, for Samhain."

Helena fought the urge to tear up at the unexpectedly thoughtful gesture, especially as she took a closer look at the candle and saw that it had been etched with both Christina's name and various symbols of the things Christina had so loved during her short life, by what was clearly Claudia's own hand.

For whatever reason - perhaps the oddly maternal streak Helena had always felt toward her - Claudia had been the one person Helena had been able to comfortably discuss Christina with. Apparently, Claudia had taken everything she'd said about her daughter to heart and used it for this gift meant to evoke her memory.

Claudia, never comfortable with strong emotion, retreated behind her usual shield of words. "I make one each year for Pete and for Myka - and Steve now, too - though I always end up burning Myka's for her. I guess she still just can't bring herself to think about Sam..."

Helena could almost feel Claudia's mental brake and backpedal as she inadvertently touched on the only topic seemingly more taboo than Christina Wells. "God, HG, I'm sorry..."

"It's alright, darling," Helena reassured her. "I know a little something about loss - Myka will talk when she's ready, and not a moment before, however much we might wish it."

For all Helena's brave words to Claudia, the truth was that it galled Helena terribly to be forced to compete - unsuccessfully at that - with the memory of a man whose name Myka could barely even utter without risking a crying jag. Being so unspeakably jealous of a dead man was patently ridiculous, Helena knew, but the ghost of Sam Martino cast a long shadow that she had yet to determine how to lead either of them out from under.

It also made her something of a hypocrite - she was just as thoroughly incapable of discussing her Christina with Myka, even after all this time - but there was no helping that. Ultimately, however, none of this baggage was meant for Claudia's young but surprisingly sturdy shoulders - it was for Helena and Myka to sort out like the adults they claimed to be.

The problem was that Claudia seemed to have an almost unhealthy emotional investment in seeing Myka and Helena end up together some day soon, despite everything she clearly knew to be working against it.

Forcing a smile she hoped seemed genuine, Helena tried to wave off Claudia's concerns without seeming dismissive of them. "Don't worry so much, darling. You know Myka and I will be here for you, no matter what happens between us."

Claudia's expression was dubious, but anything she might have said was forestalled by the chiming of her cell phone and the subsequent skimming of whatever message she'd been sent. "It's Jinksy - we have a ping. Probably for the best that we did all our Halloween partying early, huh?"

Helena couldn't help smiling - she'd quite enjoyed her first 'official' Halloween outing, costume and all, even if the evening had consisted of the fairly quiet party offered every year by the Univille city council. She'd actually been somewhat saddened to learn that they wouldn't be receiving any small visitors at the inn on Halloween proper, as she'd rather enjoyed handing out candy to the children at the party, musing a little bittersweetly on how Christina would have enjoyed the holiday had she ever had the chance to celebrate it.

Claudia - now smiling at the memory as well - turned to go, breaking the mild reverie, and Helena reached out to grab her wrist before she could leave. "Darling, you do understand that - whatever happens between Myka and I - it's naught to do with you or any lack of effort on your part?"

Claudia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know, and I'm sorry for being so pushy. It's just - I really, really need for you two to work it out and get together. You guys deserve it after everything you've been through for each other..."

"Amen to that, darling," Helena replied as she pulled Claudia in for a quick hug. "Just be patient with us - rushing these things does more harm than good."

Claudia just nodded her understanding before dashing off to find Steve, leaving Helena alone once more.

The scent from Claudia's candle filled Helena's workspace with a warm, soothing fragrance that was sure to linger for days, and the brief mention of Christina had drawn Helena's thoughts back to the happy, peaceful afternoons her daughter had spent beside her in her home laboratory, eager to learn whatever Helena deemed worthy to impart to her.

It was a pleasant place to be, physically and emotionally, and Helena was in no hurry to leave it. The next few hours passed unremarkably as Helena lost herself in her work, tucked away in the little niche of Warehouse 13 she had claimed for her own - she was confident in her status as a member of the Warehouse team now, and relished the down time rather than worrying why no one had called for her assistance.

Before she even realized how much time had flown by, it was dusk. Having far exceeded her intended progress for the day, as well as having skipped lunch while doing so, she decided to return to the inn and see what was being prepared for supper - Leena, as always, seemed to know exactly when Helena would return home and what she'd be hungry for, greeting her with a smile and a plate full of food.

Helena, discussing her day with Leena while they ate, was stunned to realize that she'd spent hours happily lost in memories of Christina without any trace of the anguish that usually accompanied them - even now, all she felt was a certain lingering contentment, laced with the budding hope that this might be the breakthrough she'd been waiting for all this time.

Needing some peace and quiet in which to absorb this sudden shift, Helena took Claudia's candle and retreated to her room to meditate for a while before everyone returned. By the time she had showered and changed into her favorite set of pajamas, she felt centered enough to begin.

Chaturanga had introduced her to the practice of meditation back during her days at Warehouse 12, and she'd found it to be invaluable in focusing her intellect and her energies. It hadn't been enough to preserve her all-too-fragile sanity, unfortunately, but it had certainly helped hold the pieces together far longer than she'd expected it to - which was part of why she'd taken it back up again in recent months, with the resounding approval of her Regent-assigned therapist.

One of the first things she'd learned was that meditation was a uniquely personal experience, and that the ritual needed to let go of the outside world could change from moment to moment or day to day. The best thing to do was to let her instincts guide her to the proper choices, aided by her subconscious - happily, she'd proven rather adept at doing so from the very beginning.

Tonight, the overhead light in her room seemed garish and over-bright somehow, so she used candles instead - the candle Claudia had given her, alongside two other small candles, seemed just about perfect once she had them lit.

The next thing to catch Helena's eye was the ancient copy of Alice's Adventures In Wonderland that sat on her bedside table. It was the very same copy, well loved and slightly worn, that she'd once read to Christina from - she'd never learned how Myka found it, though she'd wept tears of gratitude for days after it had been returned to her.

Helena had never had the heart to open the book any longer than was necessary to confirm that it had once belonged to her - the tale had never done much for her, though she'd come to love it for Christina's sake, and the memories tied to it were too painful.

Tonight, though, it was exactly what she needed, and it didn't take her long to lose herself in it. She was already at Christina's favorite part - the nonsense poem about the Jabberwock roughly a third of the way through the book - when the sound of footsteps racing down the hall pulled her away.

Helena initially attributed them to Claudia - she was known to race through the inn that way, despite Artie's repeated grumbling, and it was certainly possible that everyone had finally returned for the night - but the string of girlish giggles flowing in the wake of those footsteps gave the lie to that thought.

The footsteps and the giggles both belonged to Christina, and Helena was automatically moving towards the door, preparing to ask her daughter to show a little mercy to her governess, when she pulled up short. There was no way she could be hearing these things - there could be no Christina here, and certainly no governess, not anymore...

Confusion set in as a second set of footsteps and giggles - a heavier tread and an older voice - followed the same path down the hallway, and Helena realized that they both belonged to Myka. Even with that recognition, though, something seemed off - the footsteps didn't match Myka's usual smooth gait, instead seeming a bit awkward and ungainly.

Hearing a door close somewhere beyond her room, Helena was reminded that she should probably go see exactly what was happening in her home. The word 'impossible' never truly applied the way it ought to when it came to the Warehouse...

There was a peculiar sensation as Helena opened the door to her room and walked through it, but a quick look down the hallway and back into the room itself merely revealed the beloved confines of her home here in London. She must have fallen asleep while working on a project - an occupational hazard with so many responsibilities demanding her attention - and woken somewhat confused after hearing Christina hurry down the hall.

Pulling her watch from the pocket of her deplorably rumpled and stained waistcoat, she noted the hour and realized that everyone must be downstairs in the sitting room awaiting supper.

This, of course, necessitated a change of clothing - the rest of her outfit seemed to be in a similar state to her waistcoat, actually, as she was terribly hard on her wardrobe - but that did not take long. Here in her own home, in the absence of formal guests, she openly wore men's clothing, preferring both its cut and its comfort to the garments typically assigned to her gender.

Her only permanent concession to convention, in fact, was her choice of undergarments - she was still a woman, after all, and enjoyed the luxury of having finely-made, feminine underlinens next to her skin. She kept her stays laced rather loosely, of course, out of sheer common sense and to allow herself freedom of movement, but made no effort at all to hide her figure, knowing full well that men's clothing often even exaggerated it somewhat.

Personally, she felt quite dapper in a nice gentleman's suit, and anyone of more than passing acquaintance had likely already realized that her dress habits were hardly the most unorthodox thing about her. Christina had even begun emulating those habits, eschewing dresses for trousers whenever possible, and Helena quite supported her in it, much to Charles' dismay.

Helena broke into a smile as she threw open the doors of the sitting room and surveyed the faces gathered therein.

Chaturanga, engrossed in conversation with Charles, returned Helena's smile before rising to favor her with an avuncular kiss on the cheek. "Miss Wells. We were just discussing Christina's lessons today - she is most definitely your daughter."

Charles beamed proudly, ever the doting uncle to his favorite niece. "Mr. Chaturanga says she has quite exceeded her peers in science and mathematics. He also says she is admirably diligent in her studies."

Helena looked to her daughter, realizing with a jolt that Christina had somehow left childhood behind and become a young lady. "Is that true, dearest?"

Christina blushed a little at the praise, but drew herself up to the full height and gravity of her twelve years. " _Oui, Maman._ I try very hard to be a good student."

"Your French is excellent, love," Helena remarked with a grin. "It must be all those visits to Paris."

Just then, a familiar weight thudded against Helena's leg. "Mummy! I missed you!"

Helena bent down to retrieve her two-year-old daughter, disentangling the toddler from her trouser legs. "I missed you too, Grace darling. Have you been a good girl today?"

Young Grace just nodded, all dark eyes and dark curls. "I was very good."

Myka, across the room chatting animatedly with Wolly, entered the fray on her daughter's behalf, American accent standing out sharply amongst all the English ones. "She was, actually, though I was telling Mr. Wolcott that she and I had some trouble at naptime today."

Wolly, as always, simply blushed and stuttered at being caught conversing freely with his partner's wife - or as near to it as was possible without the actual ability to marry - before he finally managed a coherent sentence. "Good of you to join us, HG."

Helena just grinned at him, well aware of his perfectly innocent crush on Myka. "You know, Wolly, it *is* perfectly acceptable for you to speak with her. She's quite a fascinating conversational partner."

Myka's green eyes sparkled with mischief as Helena crossed to give her a kiss, and Helena could almost hear the unspoken and entirely inappropriate quip about loving her for her talented tongue. It was true in many ways, even discounting the obvious ribald ones - Helena had initially hired Myka to tutor Christina and herself in various foreign languages, only to find herself completely smitten with the American's pluck and intelligence.

Now, four years later, with a daughter between them and another on the way - both courtesy of the Warehouse and its stock of fertility Artifacts - Helena just couldn't picture any other life for herself.

Placing a hand on the swollen belly that even Victorian clothing couldn't quite hide, Helena searched Myka's face for any sign of fatigue or discomfort. "How are you feeling, darling?"

"A little tired," Myka admitted, "but nothing out of the ordinary for my condition. Doctor Magnus says that everything is going well, just like with Grace."

Helena nodded, content with that assessment - she'd known Helen Magnus for years, had allowed her to deliver both Christina and Grace, and trusted her skills far more than many of the male doctors she'd encountered. "Just make sure you let her know right away if anything seems even the slightest bit off, darling - *any* risk to you or the baby, no matter how small, is still too much as far as I'm concerned."

Charles and Wolly each made an odd, uncomfortable sort of noise as the conversation threatened to continue openly lingering on the bizarrely taboo topic of Myka's pregnancy, and Helena just rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Really, gentlemen - if you're 'mature' enough to have sex, you ought to be 'mature' enough to handle talking about its natural consequences. How, precisely, did you think the two of you got here?"

Honestly, those two were just so... Victorian in their thinking at times, despite all the other broken social conventions they both accepted so readily.

Myka, stifling a laugh, commented on Helena's little outburst under her breath. "Nice impression of Helen Magnus, darling."

Helena just grinned, reading Myka's amusement and approval in her uncharacteristic use of an obvious term of endearment - of course, Helena's speech was peppered with enough of them to make up for Myka's lack thereof, so it seemed to even itself out.

The two men were saved from any further torment at Helena's hands when one of the footmen announced that supper was ready. Grace's nurse, with the same impeccable timing that had gotten her hired to care for Christina so many years ago, arrived just in time to collect her young charge and see her off to bed.

Myka, ever the gracious hostess, managed to keep the conversation steered toward only those topics that wouldn't offend Charles' and Wolly's seemingly delicate sensibilities, though Helena couldn't resist a few teasing forays into 'unacceptable' territory simply to give them both some sisterly grief.

Charles excused himself after the meal, pleading a prior engagement, leaving Helena, Wolly, and Chaturanga alone to gather in the smaller sitting room with their brandies and cigars - Myka wouldn't abide smoking in the main one, as she claimed the smell sickened her.

Myka, still playing hostess, lingered just long enough to ensure everyone was comfortably ensconced before taking her leave so that they could enjoy their cigars and begin indulging in the talk of work that had been threatening all through dinner. The men thanked her effusively for her hospitality - even the usually somewhat taciturn Chaturanga - and Helena scandalized poor Wolly again by stealing a very thorough kiss from Myka as she departed.

Christina also bid them all goodnight, as she knew well by now that her mother and her coworkers would be talking long into the night and she'd not be allowed back into the room once they began to discuss their work.

"I say, HG," Wolly mused after the door had closed, "how the devil did you get so lucky?"

"I really couldn't say," Helena admitted after pondering the question for a moment. "Just lucky, I suppose."

Chaturanga, smiling, broke his companionable silence again. "It really is good to see you so content, Helena. I daresay it gives the rest of hope for achieving the same someday."

They quickly fell into talk about the latest curiosity, losing several hours to rehashing the case and its possible ramifications before they even realized the time had gone by. Charles returned home from his own outing just as Helena was seeing Chaturanga and Wolly into their respective cabs, and Helena decided it was long past time to retire herself.

She paused to look in on Christina and Grace - both sleeping so soundly that she lingered a moment to watch them - then headed to her own rooms.

Helena was a bit concerned to see light under the door - she hadn't intended to keep Myka up waiting for her when she needed her rest for the baby - but couldn't help smiling when she saw that Myka had simply fallen asleep while reading.

Not wanting to wake her wife, Helena changed into her nightclothes as quietly as possible, then set Myka's discarded book on the nightstand before blowing out the candle and climbing into bed.

Myka automatically shifted onto her left side - the only truly comfortable way for her to sleep so late in the pregnancy - and Helena spooned up against her back, placing one hand against her belly. As the baby kicked, Helena was reminded of Chaturanga's comment, and made a mental note as she drifted off to suggest Hope as a name for their daughter.

Hope. It sounded perfect to Helena, and she just knew Myka would adore it...

Helena's eyes flew open as she jolted awake again to find herself back in her room at Leena's Bed And Breakfast in South Dakota. Her breathing was ragged, like she'd been holding her breath for some reason, but quickly fell back into a normal rhythm as she looked around her.

Somehow, she was unsurprised to see that Claudia's candle was already guttering in its holder, despite the relatively short amount of time the clock indicated had passed - several hours, yes, but not enough for the candle to have completely burned itself out that way.

Her bedroom suddenly felt a bit claustrophobic as she started recalling the details of her vision. The memory of it didn't hurt her as such - it had been far too happy and idyllic for that - but it left her feeling unsettled and strangely exposed.

Like any proper Englishwoman finding her nerves in need of settling, Helena decided to go make herself some tea to drink. Descending the stairs, she found that only Pete and Claudia were still awake, playing some horribly gory video game in honor of the holiday - it was for the best, truly, as she wasn't entirely certain she was up to interacting with Myka just yet.

That in no way prevented her from taking Myka's coat from the coat rack instead of her own before stepping outside with her tea. All alone on the porch, she was able to openly revel in the sensation of being wrapped in Myka's scent without fear of awkward questions or knowing glances.

She loved Myka more than she could possibly express - more, perhaps, than she'd ever loved anyone save her Christina - but her earlier vision was so far from anything she'd ever dared picture that she wasn't sure how to begin processing it.

Some of the vision was simple to analyze despite the odd symbolism - her dream union with Myka literally producing Grace and Hope, with some assistance from the Warehouse - but Helena wasn't quite sure what to make of having envisioned Myka, and only Myka, as part of her old life back in London.

Her best guess, by the time she'd finished her tea, was that it meant she was finally ready to share her past with Myka - wanting to share her future was already a given. Beyond that, it would probably require her therapist's help to untangle everything she'd seen in her dreamscape.

Claudia was in the kitchen when she went back in to deposit her tea mug in the sink, though neither of them said anything to the other. They shared a smile, acknowledging that Claudia's gift had worked as intended, and Helena gave Claudia's hand a quick squeeze to indicate her gratitude as she continued on her way back upstairs to her room.

Helena had hoped to just go to sleep and avoid any further strangeness, but the powers-that-be had other ideas. Myka, seeming quite beside herself somehow, was knocking softly but almost frantically at Helena's door when she got to the top of the stairs.

Concerned that something was wrong, Helena hurried over - only to find herself shoved up against the wall and kissed as if Myka meant to draw her very spirit from her body...


	2. To Get A Dream Of Life Again...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka's dream, and what led to that kiss in the hallway...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story backtracks a little here, focusing on what led up to that last moment in the hall. Lots of sexy Myka/Helena hijinks, but probably not exactly what's expected...
> 
> This ended up a lot longer than I anticipated - I suppose Myka's issues were a little more complex than Helena's. I was also struck by how very different in tone and content this wound up being from the first part, though I suppose it makes sense that Myka and Helena would be at very different places in this process.
> 
> Also, I admit to being entertained by my Myka Muse developing a bit of a potty mouth with this one - not that I can't totally see it being accurate... ;)

************************

_I was looking for a breath of life,_   
_a little touch of heavenly light,_   
_but all the choirs in my head sang 'No oh oh oh'..._

_To get a dream of life again,_   
_a little vision of the sun in the end,_   
_but all the choirs in my head sang 'No oh oh oh'..._

_But I only need one more touch,_   
_another taste of heavenly rush,_   
_and I'll believe, I'll believe it's so oh oh oh..._

_And I only need one more touch,_   
_another taste of divine rush,_   
_and I'll believe, I'll believe it's so oh oh oh..._

Florence And The Machine, _Breath Of Life_

************************

Myka let the strap of her travel bag slide from her shoulder, causing the bag to drop to the floor beside her feet, then let herself fall face-first onto her bed. Dear god, what a day...

"Tough snag?" Claudia's voice broke the silence from where she stood in the doorway of Myka's room.

"You have *no* idea," Myka groaned as she flopped onto her back. "No idea..."

Claudia just grinned and moved to take a seat beside Myka on the bed. "Hit me."

Anyone more than tangentally affiliated with the Warehouse knew beyond any doubt that the universe had a sense of humor, and that it ran the gamut from gentle to perverse - the only question that really remained was how it would manifest on any given day.

Myka was pretty sure that choosing Halloween of all days to send them chasing after an Artifact that caused delusions of being a fairy tale character *and* simultaneously altered the victim's appearance to match said character fell squarely under 'perverse.'

It was fortunate, Myka supposed, that the ping had come early in the morning, because it had taken her and Pete hours to even figure out what kind of Artifact they were looking for, then hours more to locate the damn thing.

And that wasn't even the worst of it...

Their suspect had known exactly what she had in her possession - having used it in two premeditated homicides - and had no scruples about using it to help herself once they finally tracked her down to her apartment. She had tossed the battered leather-bound journal right at Myka, who could do nothing but catch it squarely in both ungloved hands before tossing it to Pete so she could try to apprehend their quarry before the woman escaped.

Before Myka could even take one step in pursuit, though, she found herself standing in a forest that seemed to have no beginning or end, a wicker basket (complete with gingham lining) swinging from one hand. She had smiled as she cataloged the treats in that basket, then pulled the hood of her red cloak up over her head as she set off down the road to go visit her sick grandmother.

That would have been benign enough - if vaguely embarrassing - had it stopped there, leaving her wandering around in circles until someone broke her free, but the Artifact's effect also included living out the plot of the associated tale while caught in the delusion.

Apparently, it wasn't a literal rehashing of the plot, and was open to some interpretation - Myka hadn't run into any talking anthropomorphic wolves, or had some creepy stalker guy come up to her. Instead, she'd gotten tracked and chased by the biggest, scariest fucking dire wolf she'd ever seen - not that any really existed for her to compare it to.

Its jaws had been at her throat when Pete broke the illusion by bagging the journal - had he been even a few seconds later doing it, she'd have died from her imagined injuries. Not, of course, that the urgency had prevented Pete from taking a good look at her Little Red Riding Hood costume so that he could tell her all about how slutty it had apparently been - the only saving grace was that he hadn't been able to get any pictures.

To add insult to injury - though Myka did concede she was in fact grateful for it - Pete's experience with the journal had been far more benign than hers, and the bastard had actually *enjoyed* his hallucination while it lasted.

Of course, there was some consolation in the fact that Pete had apparently been cast as The Brave Little Tailor - goofy faux-medieval clothes and all - and could now be teased about how the journal had apparently mistaken him for Mickey Mouse. It wasn't *much* consolation, though, as he'd gotten to run around swatting at flies and playing pranks while Myka had been running for her life.

Still, Myka supposed, the ease and quickness with which Pete had completed his illusory storyline had allowed him to break free in time to save *her* ass, so she was calling it good. Especially since he'd shared her pissed-off mood long enough to match her full-throttle hunt and capture of the murdering bitch who whammied them.

It wasn't until they were on the plane back home that Myka - safely gloved and with Pete standing guard - had been able to apply her somewhat rusty German and confirm what they'd already suspected.

"No way," Claudia blurted out, voice a little awed. "You snagged one of the Grimm Brothers' original journals?"

"The Brothers Fucking Grimm," Myka confirmed, deliberately playing the vulgarity of her statement for a laugh from Claudia. "I feel like part of my childhood has been defiled or something..."

They joked back and forth about the mission for a few more minutes, and even discussed Claudia's much-less-interesting mission with Steve, but Myka was well aware of what day it was and why Claudia had dropped by her room. Every year, Claudia extended the same thoughtful Samhain offering, and every year Myka was too cowardly to accept it - she was just lucky that Claudia wasn't at all offended by her refusal.

This year, though, Claudia was trying a new tactic. "So, I have your candle with me, like every year. Before you tell me no again, you should probably understand that I'll just go burn it for you anyway, like I always do - and that HG accepted the one I made her for Christina."

Myka was too startled to respond, so Claudia kept going, though she dialed it back a bit. "Look, I totally get how much it still hurts, but I thought that after solving Sam's case, you might wanna burn this one yourself - you know, closure and all that..."

"I'm just... scared, Claude," Myka admitted finally. Actually, she was pretty sure the words did not exist to adequately describe her abject terror of what deliberately invoking Sam's memory would do to her psyche.

Claudia just squeezed Myka's hand sympathetically. "I know, and I totally get it, but we both know that your fear is fucking things up between you and HG."

Myka winced at Claudia's blunt and uncomfortably accurate assessment, but also smiled with pride at Claudia's maturity. "Since when did you start laying down the tough love?"

Claudia just grinned. "You do what you gotta do - turns out I've had some pretty good teachers these last few years."

A short while later - after many reassurances from Claudia that no one she'd ever known had regretted burning a memorial candle, plus a much-needed shower and her comfy pajamas to settle her nerves - Myka sat staring balefully at the orange and black candle as if it were the bane of her existence.

A whiff of spices - cinnamon, cloves, and maybe some nutmeg - hit Myka's nose again, and her glare softened to a smile as she remembered her first Thanksgiving with Sam. They'd planned this super-special dinner together, just the two of them, only to end up burning it all because they couldn't keep their hands off each other long enough to watch the food.

Luckily, they'd found this amazing little hole-in-the-wall diner that served a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings - even dessert, though remembering *that* only served to make Myka blush at the memories of what she'd let Sam get away with as they sat tucked away in their little booth in the very back.

She'd been so happy that day...

Sucking in a shaky breath as her eyes starting stinging with unshed tears, Myka steeled her resolve with a stern reminder that Sam deserved better than to have her run from his memory like a coward. Her hand shook as she tried to light the candle, necessitating several attempts, but she finally got it burning.

Grabbing a book off her shelf - some of the Sherlock Holmes that Sam had so loved reading aloud to her - Myka settled into bed and read by candlelight until her eyes grew heavy and the words on the page began to blur.

"Don't fall asleep on me now, Bunny." Myka's eyes jolted wide open at the sound of Sam's voice. "The show's just starting!"

Her eyes got even wider as looked around to see that she and Sam were sitting side-by-side in twin armchairs, both set in front of a full-length, free-standing mirror. Something - other than the obvious impossibility of Sam's presence - seemed off, and it took Myka a moment to realize that they were apparently *inside* the mirror.

It felt very different from Alice's mirror - oddly safe and warm, rather than cold and empty, despite the whole ghostly visitor thing - but that didn't stop her from panicking a little. She jumped up from her chair and started banging on the glass with her fist, only to find that the surface actually gave and stretched as she made contact with it. "What the hell?!"

Sam, seeming perfectly at ease the way he always had, just smiled and shrugged. "Beats me, Bunny. It's your dream."

That notion set her to pacing. "*Am* I dreaming? I mean - I have to be, right?"

Her pacing led her directly in front of Sam, and he reached out as she passed to pull her onto his lap. "Awake, asleep, it doesn't really matter. There's something I need to show you, Bunny, and we don't have much time."

Myka didn't resist being pulled to him, instead reaching out to touch Sam's face once she was settled. "I can't believe you're here. I've missed you so much!"

Her hands strayed to the sandy blond hair she'd so missed playing with, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from his familiar warm blue ones. "This has to a be a dream..."

Sam just smiled and reached out to cup her face. "Like I said, it doesn't matter. Though, as long as we're both here, I think we can spare a minute..."

He leaned in and kissed her then, sweet and gentle and exactly the way Myka remembered. The kiss didn't set her pulse racing the way it once had, but it did make her feel safe and whole in a way she hadn't since Sam's death.

They just sat there smiling at each other for a moment, until a sudden spate of giggling from the other side of the mirror glass drew their attention.

Myka recognized both voices before the owners even walked into view - one was hers, the other Helena's - but that didn't even begin to compare to the sheer oddness of watching herself from outside her own body.

Things went from odd to just plain awkward as she watched mirror-Helena pull mirror-Myka in for a very thorough kiss. It quickly turned to full-out embarrassing as mirror-Helena's hands began roaming places on Myka's mirror-self that they had no business going while Sam was right there watching.

And he was definitely watching, especially when mirror-Myka turned to face them directly. "Nice costume, Bunny... I wish *I* had been able to get you into something like that."

Myka groaned inwardly as she finally got a good look at her mirror-self's costume - because of course her subconscious would choose *that* part of her day to carry over into her dreams...

The red bodice and black corset of the Little Red Riding Hood outfit clung like a second skin, the neckline dipping alarmingly low to reveal more cleavage than Myka was ever going to be comfortable with - though, in the costume's defense, it did do wonderful things for said cleavage. A small white ruffle, threaded with a black ribbon, stretched across the top of the corset to make absolutely sure that the effect didn't go unnoticed.

The red skirt had black-and-white checkered trim and a faux white apron trimmed in black. It flared out over several layers of red petticoats, barely reaching mid-thigh, and Myka couldn't help praying that her mirror-self had remembered to plan against the appallingly high possibility of flashing everyone that came with wearing something that short. She assumed so, as it was something she'd long since learned to account for, given how long her legs were in proportion to the rest of her frame.

Truthfully, the short skirt didn't bother her too much - Myka had never really had any trouble with the idea of flaunting something she considered one of her best features, certainly not the way she did with the possibility of displaying too much cleavage. Also, she had to admit, at least to herself, that she really liked how her legs looked in the thigh-high white stockings that her mirror-self was wearing under that skirt - the black bows at their tops were a nice touch, actually, drawing attention to the almost (but not quite) hidden stretch of bare thigh between them and the hem of the skirt.

There was, of course, also a short hooded cape - its hemline falling even with that of the skirt - in the obligatory shade of bright red.

The costume wasn't exactly indecent, especially if the wearer planned against any potential issues with the short skirt, but it definitely had a certain come-and-fuck-me vibe to it that couldn't be discounted. If Myka was being honest with herself, it was the exactly the sort of costume she secretly eyed every year at Halloween but could never actually go through with buying.

Well, at least Myka now knew she wouldn't look *completely* ridiculous if she ever gave in to that impulse...

Mirror-Myka turned her back to the mirror and knelt down at Helena's feet, giving Myka and Sam a fleeting glimpse of the black ruffled boyshorts under her costume before the skirt settled back into place - she had apparently thought ahead after all, despite being only a figment of Myka's dream.

Sam's grin grew even larger, and Myka couldn't resist the impulse to smack him in the arm for ogling her mirror-self. The familiarity of the teasing gesture felt good enough, though, that Myka let him off the hook with a grin of her own.

Then Myka got her first real glimpse of Helena in her costume, and everything else pretty much flew right out of her head.

Helena was obviously meant to be the Big Bad Wolf to Myka's Little Red Riding Hood, with all the overtly sexual overtones that implied, and had found a costume that reflected as much. Myka's mirror-self was bantering with mirror-Helena as she tried to help the other woman out of the ridiculously tall platform boots she'd evidently selected to ensure she stood taller than Myka for the evening - at least, Myka kind of hoped that's all her mirror-self was up to, bantering and boot removal, what with Sam standing right there watching everything that happened.

The centerpiece of Helena's costume was a silvery gray corset and mini-skirt - skin tight, of course - that left Helena's shoulders and arms bare, along with most of her legs. Fake fur, liberally applied, brought in splashes of white and charcoal to add a little depth to the color scheme.

Helena's hat almost stole focus away from everything else - an oversized mop of fake fur and too-large ears that was obviously meant to pass as some sort of wolf's head, despite having a pair of long tassels (complete with fake fur pom poms) on either side of it. On anyone else, it would have looked utterly ridiculous, but Helena - with her black hair, dark eyes, and unrelentingly perfect bone structure - managed to just *own* the thing somehow, giving it a genuinely predatory edge.

The corset and skirt were both made of PVC, as near as Myka could tell, and fit Helena better than any glove Myka had ever seen her wear. The way the PVC redefined the phrase 'second skin' helped counterbalance the relatively modest cut of the costume - the corset was cut straight across the chest, minimizing visible cleavage, and the skirt's hemline ended a little lower on the thigh than mirror-Myka's.

The fake fur also helped add some character - a vaguely heart-shaped swatch of it covered a good portion of the corset's front, and all but the top few inches of the front of the skirt were likewise covered in it. The combination of colors and textures was oddly attention-grabbing, even without the way it complimented all that pale, perfect skin Helena was displaying.

Myka quickly forced her mind away from that train of thought, attempting to distract herself by taking in what little of the costume was left to see - a pair of fake fur gloves, and fake fur leg warmers that covered Helena's lower legs from just beneath her knees all the way down to her toes. The ridiculously tall platforms that mirror-Myka was apparently having such trouble unlacing were hidden under the leg warmers, which was probably the source of the problem.

It should all have seemed as overblown as the hat - skin-tight PVC and an overabundance of fake fur - but quality materials made it workable. Helena's natural arrogance and sex appeal made it something else entirely...

Sam, having given Helena's costume the exact same once-over - probably with the exact same inappropriate responses - let out a low whistle. "So that's the infamous Helena G. Wells, huh?"

Myka grinned even as she let out a long-suffering sigh. "Pretty much, yeah."

"I'm impressed, Bunny," Sam finally declared, grinning back. "She's hot. Of course, I'd be even more impressed if you hadn't deliberately avoided sleeping with her this whole time - it's pretty obvious you two want each other."

Myka, feeling vaguely unfaithful somehow for having been caught eying someone else, made a spluttering attempt at a denial that just wouldn't pass her lips. "I don't- We aren't-"

Sam just smiled indulgently as he gestured toward the mirror. "This little psychodrama we're watching says you do. And it's pretty clear that the two of you aren't - I'm just trying to figure out why."

Myka's first impulse was to try and explain all the various ways in which things with Helena were beyond complicated, but she found that she couldn't do it. All those... complications were well behind them now, and pretending differently somehow trivialized all the effort it had taken to make that happen.

"I don't know why," Myka finally admitted, turning away so that she didn't have to look Sam in the eyes or see what was happening beyond the mirror. "I just haven't been able to let anyone... touch me like that, not since you... you..."

She chewed on her lower lip as she fought off the tears that suddenly threatened, but Sam put his hands on her shoulders and turned her back around to face him.

"Since I *died*, Bunny," Sam finished gently. "Years ago. Long enough that you shouldn't still be sleeping alone if you don't want to - and somehow, I doubt that you want to with *her* around."

Myka shook her head vehemently, though she wasn't sure which part of the truth she was trying to deny.

Sam reached out to brush away the tears on Myka's cheeks. "The Bunny I knew needed sex the same way she needed air, or food, or sleep, or new books to read. I'm pretty sure that hasn't changed - this isn't healthy for you."

"The last time you were in a mirror like this," Sam reminded her, "the isolation was so bad that it still haunts you. You know, you told me once that the worst feeling you'd ever encountered was feeling like you were stuck on the sidelines watching while everyone else was busy living their lives."

He turned Myka to face the mirror, where her mirror-self - apparently having finally conquered those damned boots - was now vocally and enthusiastically making out with mirror-Helena. It wasn't hard to predict where things would go - and quickly - if nothing interrupted, but something in the two women's faces made it clear that simple lust was only part of what they felt for each other.

Myka, not wanting to watch but unable to turn away, noted mechanically that mirror-Helena had ditched the hat, gloves, and leg warmers while her attention had been elsewhere. She also tried very hard not to imagine what the fake fur would have felt like against her skin.

"You used to look at me like that," Sam remarked, tone more wistful and accepting than sad, and Myka wasn't sure which version of herself he was referring to. "But I'm gone now, she's here instead, and that's how it's supposed to be. Like Henry Miller said, life moves on no matter what."

"*Live*, Bunny. Be happy." Sam's tone was oddly final, for all its gentleness.

Before Myka could respond, though, Sam's hands connected with her shoulder blades as he shoved her from behind, knocking her onto her toes and sending her face-first through the mirror - straight into mirror-Helena's arms.

Well, sort of, anyway. It was hard to tell if the solid thump she heard when she landed was her spirit falling into her mirror-self's body, or just the sound of that body hitting the bed after being playfully shoved onto it by mirror-Helena.

Myka wanted to say something, anything, to point out how wrong this was as mirror-Helena moved to join her on the bed - because dreaming about stealing her own body to have imaginary sex with some alternate version of Helena that she'd been spying on through a mirror while hanging out with the ghost of her dead lover had to be some new, never-before-seen level of fucked up.

Then Helena's fingertips grazed the bare skin between Myka's boyshorts and her thigh-highs, and Myka decided that she really didn't give a damn anymore. Instead, she let loose a string of involuntary curses as Helena slid both thumbs just inside her boyshorts to tease along the folds of her sex, and followed that outburst up with another as Helena removed those thumbs without getting anywhere near where Myka wanted her to go most.

"Patience, darling," Helena told her, laughing, then proceeded to tease her further by trailing kisses across the same bared skin that her fingers had just been mapping out. Myka squirmed a little as one of those kisses got planted squarely between her legs, but the fabric of her boyshorts dulled most of the sensation.

Helena was apparently feeling a bit indecisive - or just really, really sadistic - because she suddenly shifted her attention to the laces in Myka's corset. It was a mock corset, really, attached to the front of the dress that made up Myka's costume and obviously more for appearances than actual support, but unlacing it and pulling the panels aside promised to offer Helena a bit more access to Myka's breasts.

It was Helena's turn to curse then as she realized that the bodice of the dress was deceptively restrictive. She could slide a couple of fingers inside to toy with Myka's nipples - which was definitely well-received on Myka's part - but anything more risked damaging the outfit.

"Zipper," Myka finally managed to choke out. "In the back - can feel it digging in."

She pushed herself up onto her elbows to allow access to the zipper, and Helena didn't waste any time taking advantage of it - a moment or two later, the dress was lying in a heap off to the side somewhere and Myka was lying on her back again wearing only the white stockings and the black ruffled boyshorts.

Myka didn't bother to stifle any of the appreciative noises generated by Helena's slow, methodical exploration of her bared breasts - Helena, for her part, just chuckled and took it for the encouragement it was intended to be.

Then Helena traded hands for lips and tongue, and Myka arched up off the bed as Helena took a nipple into her mouth, using suction and an agile tongue to tease the already hardened nub further. Then Helena switched to the other breast, and Myka could only writhe a little in anticipation as she thought of that tongue finally making its way down between her legs...

For whatever reason, Helena chose to linger over Myka's breasts and torso, the combination of hands, lips, and tongue quickly building Myka up to a fever pitch but not quite allowing her to slip over that edge into orgasm. Not that she was complaining *too* loudly about that just yet...

Myka slid a hand between her legs, instinctively trying to give herself that last little bit of stimulation, but Helena caught it and pulled it away with a chuckle. "I don't think so, darling, much as you know I enjoy watching you pleasure yourself."

Helena pulled gently at Myka's hip and shoulder before reaching around to cup Myka's ass and toy with one of the ruffles on the boyshorts. "Hands and knees for me now, love - you've absolutely no idea how good these look on you, and I need a better vantage point..."

Myka, grinning, rolled over onto her stomach as requested, drawing her knees up under her and taking a moment to stretch out her spine by extending both arms out low in front of her. Before the stretch was even finished, Helena had a hand between Myka's legs, tugging Myka's boyshorts aside to trail her fingers through the wetness she uncovered.

Funny how that stretch had also doubled as a nice little display for Helena's benefit...

Myka's hips pushed back into Helena's touch of their own volition, all the more so as Helena slid two fingers inside Myka.

"Oh fuck - right there!" Myka couldn't quite help the startled exclamation that escaped her as Helena's fingers thrust right over her g-spot - because of course Helena was just *that* good.

Helena chuckled again - seemingly her favorite response to any display of Myka's enthusiasm - and set a rhythm so steady and deliberate that Myka almost wondered if Helena was actually counting out the timing in her head.

After a moment, though, Myka managed to catch on to it as well, and found that it slowly pushed her to the verge of climax and then let her linger there, blessedly free of any pressure to fall over that edge. It let Myka hold out far longer against the rising tide of pleasure than she otherwise would have, keyed up as she was - it also kept her from being completely overwhelmed when her orgasm finally washed over her after Helena's thumb moved to start circling her clit.

Even so, Myka's mind still went blank for several seconds afterward as she rode out the aftershocks. By the time she came back to herself, Helena had rolled her over onto her back again and was tugging at the top of one of her stockings.

Helena made an incredible tease of removing that stocking, and Myka wondered for a moment if she should be jealous of the women who'd taught Helena what she knew, or merely grateful for the skills they'd imparted.

It didn't take Myka long to settle on grateful.

Helena took her sweet time with that tease, too - she ran her hands over every inch of the thigh-high, from thigh to ankle, focusing on every sweet spot she could locate as she traced out random patterns through the thin material. Then, once she deemed the skin underneath duly sensitized, she rolled the stocking down - slowly and oh-so-carefully, of course, so as not to snag or tear the fragile nylon it was made from - and traced the same random patterns with her lips and tongue instead of her fingertips.

After that, of course, she worked her way back up the leg she'd just blazed such a memorable trail down...

Myka caved before Helena was even halfway done with the second stocking. "I swear to fucking God, Helena, if you don't stop teasing..."

Okay, so maybe Myka deserved Helena's laughter that time, not that Helena altered her behavior one whit in the face of Myka's obvious frustration. "I assure you, darling, I am quite serious."

Helena completed her removal of that second stocking, then trailed kisses up the inside of Myka's legs, zigzagging between them to ensure that no patch of skin between ankle and thigh went neglected. Myka, for her part, was forced to concentrate on simply remembering to breathe - given the intensity of her response thus far to Helena's simplest touch, Myka was fairly certain that any further increase in the 'seriousness' of Helena's attentions was liable to kill her outright...

That being the case, it was hard to say if the noise Myka made when Helena skipped from her inner thigh back up to her stomach was one of relief or of protest. She twitched involuntarily as Helena's tongue began playing in and around her navel like it was another, rather different portion of her anatomy altogether, then twitched a second time as Helena's stifled laughter hummed against her skin.

Myka, who hid the fact that she was ticklish as if her life depended on it, couldn't completely smother the giggles that rose up as Helena planted kisses all over the expanse of bare skin between Myka's bellybutton and the waistband of her boyshorts. The giggles died down in favor of other sounds, though, as Helena started lowering those boyshorts down bit by bit, continuing to press the skin she exposed with open-mouthed kisses that suddenly had a hint of tongue behind them.

Finally, Helena had the boyshorts lowered far enough down to press a kiss against Myka's mons. The next kiss was a little lower, more a flick of the tongue against the sensitive spot where the mons and the labia met, and Myka couldn't help arching up into it - despite the earlier orgasm, or maybe because of it, Helena's skillful teasing had easily started pushing her right back towards a second release.

Helena continued working that spot as she somehow also managed to finish removing Myka's boyshorts - Myka didn't really feel any need to ponder the specifics so long as Helena didn't ever stop whatever she was doing with her tongue. Rather than make the incremental downward shift to Myka's clit that seemed the next logical move, given its proximity, Helena shifted to probe gently at Myka's opening with the tip of her tongue.

Myka pushed into the contact, and Helena started to thrust a little deeper, experimenting with pressure and tempo to gauge her responses. Once Myka had communicated what worked best for her, Helena used her fingers to part the labia, tracing the slick folds as she used the increased access to continue thrusting into Myka with her tongue - Myka certainly wasn't going to complain about the added stimulation, though her body seemed a little uncertain at first as to which sensation it was actually responding to, making her initial movements awkward and ill-timed.

Finally, though, Myka and Helena fell into compatible rhythms, and Myka felt herself beginning that familiar spiral upward. It wouldn't be long now, not at the pace Helena was setting - not rough, exactly, but not particularly invested in delaying Myka's orgasm either, the way everything earlier had been meant to.

It was a pretty safe bet that Helena had already picked up on that fact, but Myka did her best to communicate it anyway - she was eager enough by now to start her own exploration of Helena's body that she didn't want her to feel the need to linger unnecessarily. Of course, Myka's words didn't come out quite as eloquently as intended, given that her ragged breathing meant only about every other one was audible. "Oh... god... so... close..."

They still managed to get her point across, though. Myka's hands tangled in the sheets - far safer than Helena's hair at this point - as Helena's tongue found her clit, circling and probing in tiny, sure strokes that pushed Myka closer and closer to the edge.

It wasn't the first time that someone had gone down on Myka - or even the first time she'd imagined Helena doing so, wondering if it would be different with a woman - but there was something more intense and urgent about it this time, an edge that she generally didn't experience in either real life or her fantasies.

The sudden reminder that this was, in fact, all still just a dream almost shattered the moment for Myka. Fortunately, a well-timed combination of her thrusting hips and Helena's skilled tongue intervened to save the day, Myka's second orgasm of the night washing over her and chasing coherent thought right out of her head.

By the time Myka's brain was actually working again, her subconscious had had those few crucial moments it needed to remind itself that it hadn't much cared in the first place whether Myka's encounter with Helena was real or imagined.

Myka had to admit that the reminder that she was dreaming it all was a little disappointing, but it was hardly going to hurt anyone to indulge the fantasy for as long as it lasted - it wasn't as if the real-world Helena was going to be offended that Myka was having dirty and vividly detailed dreams about her.

In truth, Myka wasn't quite ready to return yet. In here, she could have everything she wanted, at least for a little while, but out there she was too afraid to even voice what she wanted, much less pursue it, and had no idea how to change that fact.

"Are you alright, darling?" Helena, trailing her fingers up and down Myka's arm as she waited for her to return to the present, apparently felt that Myka's thoughts had been elsewhere for too long.

Myka just stared at her for a long moment as her words processed, then had to laugh a little. "Oh my god - are you really still fully clothed?"

On the other hand, that wasn't really the bad thing it sounded like, as Myka took a second look at the form-fitting PVC and fake fur. "Never mind - I actually kind of like you in this..."

Myka, for all her fantasies and daydreams, had never really thought much beyond what it would be like to have Helena touch her - the notion of actually touching Helena back was just too intimidating, given the disparity in their experience levels. Right then, though, that was all Myka wanted to do - the truth of the situation apparently hadn't diminished that earlier urge to reciprocate.

Well, it was *her* dreamscape, after all - surely she could be as amazing as she wanted to be in here, unlike the paralyzing awkwardness she was sure to feel in the real world if the moment ever arrived. And maybe, just maybe, the memory of this dream would be enough to push her past all of that should she find herself in need of a little confidence...

Myka expected some resistance as she tried to re-immerse herself in the fantasy she'd constructed, but she clearly wanted it - wanted Helena, in any way she could have her - too much to really fight herself over it for long.

For once in Myka's life, in fact, it seemed the easiest thing in the world to let instinct take over as she moved to straddle Helena's hips. Helena didn't display any surprise or amusement at Myka suddenly taking the lead - just a simple acceptance, as if she'd always known Myka was capable of it.

Myka, somewhat emboldened by that, leaned down to kiss Helena. Helena met her halfway, and Myka was a little surprised to realize that she could still taste herself as they kissed, though she probably shouldn't have been. The true surprise was the realization that they hadn't actually kissed once this whole time - it felt oddly intimate after everything they'd already done.

They pulled each other close as something just sparked between them, and Myka - still every bit as naked as Helena had left her - was finally able to learn what all that PVC and fake fur actually felt like against her bare skin. It wasn't exactly what Myka had imagined, but it felt good enough that she kept herself pressed as closely against it as she could while she and Helena explored each other's mouths.

By the time they parted for air, though, Myka had become far more interested in uncovering all she could of the soft skin and warm curves currently under her hands. She also couldn't imagine that Helena's corset was either especially comfortable or particularly conducive to her own explorations - fortunately, it had a zipper on the side that was far easier to work than the laces in the back would have been.

Myka actually managed a semblance of grace in removing the corset once it was unzipped - which she said a silent prayer of gratitude for, given how klutzy she seemed to get when nervous - and then her hands were on Helena's breasts, testing their weight and texture with a confidence and skill she wouldn't have expected of herself. Helena certainly wasn't complaining in the least, making appreciative noises similar to the ones she herself had drawn from Myka earlier, especially after Myka's fingers started toying with her nipples.

It made Myka smile, even as she shifted a little lower on Helena's thighs so that she could start repeating that same exploration with her mouth. In a fit of sublime coordination she would probably continue to proud of for days, she managed to slide a hand between Helena's legs even as her mouth closed around one pebble-hard nipple.

Helena jumped a little at the unexpected touch, then shifted them somehow so that they were both kneeling on the bed - with her legs no longer pinned, Helena was able to spread her thighs a little wider to give Myka better access.

Myka - who was faintly surprised to find only soft hair and warm, slick skin under her fingertips when she reached beneath Helena's skirt - let Helena's responses guide her as she tried to map out the other woman's sweet spots, memorizing each one that she located. The sense of empowerment that came with watching her mere touch bring someone pleasure wasn't new to Myka, but it was somehow more intense knowing that it was Helena writhing under her mouth and hands.

Once Helena began bucking against Myka's touch in earnest, Myka slid two fingers inside her - she didn't have Helena's almost surreal luck in hitting the g-spot on the first try, but Helena seemed to enjoy the attempt on its own merits. "Dear god, Myka..."

A moment later, Myka found the bundle of nerves she was looking for, and Helena was suddenly beyond words, seemingly reduced to gasping and panting as she worked to help Myka set the most pleasurable rhythm for her. Myka held that rhythm for as long as she dared, until Helena's inner walls started to contract against her thrusts and Helena's accompanying cries took on a frantic, almost begging quality.

After a split-second mental review of her anatomical knowledge - just to be sure she got it all right - Myka shifted her thumb so that it brushed across Helena's clit with each thrust. Even with the added stimulation, Helena - apparently intent on holding out for as long as she could - managed to last several long moments before her orgasm finally overtook her.

Myka watched as Helena flew apart in her arms, attention divided between taking in every detail of Helena's face as she climaxed and the feel of Helena clenched tight around her fingers as she rode out the aftershocks.

It was a strangely profound moment that turned lighthearted as Myka's eyes met Helena's and they found themselves inexplicably overcome by a fit of giggles. Myka recovered first and used the opportunity to start tugging off Helena's skirt, grinning as she pushed Helena onto her back in the process.

Taking her cue from Helena's own playbook, Myka settled herself between Helena's legs once she was done with the skirt. Helena's hands fisted in the sheets as Myka started using lips and tongue and an eidetic memory to recreate the things that had been done to her - somehow, Myka figured that was a damn good start to the current round of the proceedings.

Fortunately, things continued on exactly as they'd started, and Myka acquitted herself well during that round and the others that followed. Truthfully, there was something tremendously ego-boosting about being able to make Helena call her name like that - which wasn't to say that Helena didn't cause Myka to reciprocate a time or two.

Finally, though, both Myka and Helena reached their limits - given that it was still, in fact, a dream, Myka had no real notion of how much time had passed, or was supposed to have passed. She didn't really care, though, as simply laying there curled up with Helena was feeding another need entirely, and felt almost as good as the sex itself had.

After a while, Helena's breathing slowed and evened out, indicating she'd drifted off while spooned up against Myka's side. Myka had to smile a little - if she and Helena proved this insatiable back in the real world, that was going to make getting anything important done absolute hell.

The thought yanked Myka out of the pleasant haze she had been letting herself float in. The idea of herself and Helena was no longer as daunting as it had been, but letting her imagination take flight during the safety of a crazy dream was a far cry from trying to make that dream real.

Despite everything Myka had done to avoid the situation, she was too observant not to know how things stood with Helena out in the real world - which was to say that Helena was waiting on Myka to decide one way or the other and then communicate that decision. Myka had, of course, been doing everything possible to dodge or just delay that decision, and was a little worried that it had begun to strain their friendship despite Helena's seemingly endless patience on the subject.

The dreamscape had helped Myka clarify a few things, but clarity only did so much to bypass fear and lingering guilt. Here, at least, Myka could accept the fact that there was no real reason for her to hold back anymore - out there, who knew if her resolve would hold up?

Because she suddenly wanted it to, very much...

"Atta girl, Bunny." Sam was suddenly back with her, crouched beside Myka's side of the bed, only now he was dressed in some sort of costume she supposed was meant to be a Huntsman or Woodsman. "I'm proud of you."

Strangely, Sam's presence there didn't feel odd or out of place - it probably helped that he was clearly far more interested in actually talking to Myka than in obtaining any sort of vicarious thrill from all the exposed flesh still visible. He also seemed genuinely invested in making sure Myka ended up with Helena, the implication being that he believed every word he'd said about wanting Myka to move on.

He took Myka's free hand and kissed it. "This is a good start, but it still isn't real. You need to wake up now, Bunny - you need to go find Helena."

Myka's eyes snapped open even as Sam's voice echoed in her ears. She was clearly awake again and back in her room at the Bed And Breakfast - no question of any dream-within-a-dream nonsense - though the candle she'd lit for Sam had long since burned out.

The sudden transition from dream to reality was a little jarring, and it took a few moments for Myka to get her breathing back to normal. Myka, still safely tucked away in her warm bed, tried to use the time to impose some sort of order on her chaotic thoughts - happily, the very first thing to jump out of the melee was the realization that she felt strangely at peace in a way she hadn't for a very, very long time.

It made her feel a little sheepish at not having confronted all of this sooner, though, to be fair, she'd been inching toward it in baby-steps for some time now.

Myka's first conclusion, after careful consideration, was that her vision of Sam had been right in everything he'd said. The Sam she'd loved so much would not be pleased at all to know that she was refusing to let go of his memory and start living a happy, healthy life again - moving on didn't mean forgetting him, as hard as that was for her to accept.

Her second conclusion was that she had *definitely* been sleeping alone for too long, especially if it took that kind of blatant messaging from her subconscious to make her see it. There was definitely something not quite right if that was the only sort of outlet her libido was able to find for itself, though she wasn't sure she wanted to analyze that too closely just yet.

Of course, the true proof of that statement was the fact that none of the physical satisfaction from her dreams seemed to have carried through to her actual body. She was, in point of fact, still intensely aroused, and not entirely sure what she wanted to do about it.

Obviously, she could scratch that itch herself, the way she had over the last few years on the rare occasions where her hormones flared up on her, but the idea really seemed to lack appeal after such a vividly-detailed, sex-soaked dream.

Sam's final words from before she woke up floated across her mind again, and she actually spoke them aloud to herself. "You need to wake up now, Bunny - you need to go find Helena."

Something had definitely changed while Myka dreamt, because damned if she didn't agree. She was also fairly certain that it wasn't just waking up from her dream that Sam had been referring to, because - even discounting the apparent unearthing of her buried libido - she felt far more alive, more... awake than she had since that horrible moment in Denver had ripped her life to shreds.

Myka knew herself well - sometimes the only way to get her to do something she was balking at was to give her such a strong push that she *had* to take action one way or another. Oh, she'd fight it every step of the way, but she'd finally make her decision and act.

Final conclusion: if she didn't go to Helena now, while there was so much driving her to it, then she likely never would - and that was just *not* acceptable.

Shoving the covers aside and swinging her feet around, Myka paused to check the clock. It was late, yes, but not so late that Helena was guaranteed to be asleep.

Her reflection in her mirror caught her eye as she crossed the room - crazy sleep hair and rumpled pajamas were definitely not what the moment called for, even if Helena claimed to find the combination of the two adorable.

Smiling and shaking her head at herself, Myka began rummaging through her drawers until she found the items she was looking for - she'd bought them but never put them on afterward, and the prospect of finally getting to wear them was actually a little exciting. It had been so long since she'd had even the momentary impulse to try and be sexy, much less an actual reason.

Of course, there hadn't been an actual reason when she'd bought the camisole and tap short set in the first place, shortly after Helena's second return to the Warehouse - just a nascent, unspoken hope so obvious that Leena and Claudia had exchanged knowing smiles as she made her purchase.

Now, though, Myka could admit to herself that the blue satin and cream-colored lace had somehow reminded her of Helena. She'd wanted Helena to see her in these from the moment she'd decided to buy them, and that thought only added to the sense that this was exactly the right decision.

Myka had to smile in satisfaction as she stood staring into the mirror - the ensemble looked damn good on her, the flyaway front of the camisole and the low cut of the shorts exposing flashes of a stomach far more toned than anyone ever got to see. Even if nothing happened tonight, it felt unbelievably nice to have something pretty and sexy next to her skin while actually being able to appreciate it.

Modesty was still something of a requirement when living with others, though, so Myka added a matching silk robe just to make sure she was passably covered if she ran into anyone in the hall. The final touch - if it could be called that - was to run a brush through her hair and apply a teeny smudge of very unobtrusive lip gloss.

Myka valued discretion and privacy - even if others insisted on reading that fact as prudishness - and really didn't feel like walking around the Bed And Breakfast advertising her intent to finally bed Helena Wells to anyone who happened to look at her. Even if everyone else there would simply cheer her on before pointing her in Helena's direction...

Because she was nothing if not thorough, even when distracted, she remembered at the last second to avail herself of both perfume and breath spray. Dropping them both back onto her dresser, she caught sight of the picture of herself and Sam she kept discreetly tucked away - for once, the smile it brought on had no bitterness or pain behind it.

Reaching out, she paused to brush her fingers across the photo. "Thanks, Sam..."

The hallway was empty when she stepped out into it. Pete and Claudia were still downstairs playing video games, which explained why their doors were still open, and she figured that both Leena and Steve had already turned in for the night since their respective doors were closed with no light coming from underneath them.

Helena's door was closed as well, but there was a faint line of light visible underneath it that made Myka hope she might still be awake. Taking one last deep breath to shore up her determination, Myka stepped forward and knocked gently on the door.

When there was no answer after a moment, Myka almost walked away. Instead, she made herself stay and knock again a second time, a little louder and more urgently in case Helena simply hadn't heard her.

That still didn't net an answer, so Myka tried again, knocking as loudly and urgently as she dared without disturbing anyone else on the floor. She was afraid of upsetting Helena by waking her - which could certainly make things a tad awkward - but she was even more afraid of never finding the strength to try this again if she walked away too quickly.

"Myka?" Helena's voice came from behind Myka, and she turned to see Helena standing at the top of the stairs. "Is everything alright, darling?"

Before Myka could respond, though, Helena had already hurried over to stand beside her. Once Helena got close, instinct took over, and Myka - who'd been fretting over what words to use this whole time - found herself pinning Helena against the nearest empty patch of wall, pressing herself close and kissing Helena exactly the way she'd always wanted to but had never dared to try.

It wasn't just lack of oxygen that had them both a little out of breath when they finally parted - if simply moving their faces a few millimeters apart so they could breathe counted as actually parting, because neither of them moved their bodies at all otherwise.

"Not that I'm complaining, darling," Helena finally said, seeming a tad startled still, "but what brought that on?"

"Let's just say I had a dream tonight, about us," Myka stated playfully, "and it kind of clued me in on what I've been missing."

Helena's eyebrows shot up, though her hands stayed firmly glued to Myka's behind. "A dream? Myka, what..?"

Some of the playfulness left Myka's tone, replaced by earnestness and sincerity. "I mean it, Helena. I've been an idiot to let things go for so long - we've missed out on so much time together, and I'm sorry."

They'd never really needed words to communicate clearly, even at their worst, and Helena seemed to sense everything that lay unspoken behind Myka's explanation. "Darling, as long as your apology includes more kisses like that last one, I daresay I could forgive you anything."

Myka, grinning, went to kiss her again, but Helena pulled away slightly. "Darling, I know I have something of a reputation - I took a rather perverse satisfaction in earning it, actually - but I need you to understand that I can't treat you that way. If we do this, it has to be something more than a mere dalliance."

"I know," Myka assured her, "and we can talk all you want in the morning, but I need this tonight, before I lose my nerve again."

Helena, even caught off guard, obviously knew when to simply play the hand she'd been dealt, and drew Myka in for another kiss. "Well, then - let's get started, shall we?"

As they shuffled and thumped their way into Helena's room, clearly unwilling to let go of each other for even that brief span of time, they never saw the small audience that had gathered in response to the noise and voices.

"Now that was some serious truth," Steve said, grinning ear-to-ear in spite of his usual reserve. Claudia just sniffled, a little overcome with emotion despite herself, and leaned her head against Steve's shoulder as he put an arm around her.

Leena, for her part, simply smiled contentedly as she crossed her arms. "I knew they'd work it out. It took them long enough, though..."

Pete's response was probably the most practical. No one uttered a word of protest or looked even the least bit confused as he started handing out earplugs...


End file.
